CROWNA
by Martinus Gladius
Summary: This is a story about a night-hero, who fights against injustice in London.
1. Prologue

I am the shadow,

And the mist.

Most men are afraid

Of my appearance.

Some of them

Call me a demon, a ghost.

Yet, others recognise me

By my symbol.

The symbol is of death, precisely a crow.

It is the crow of justice.

It is the crow of truth.

My truth leaves feathers, and blood,

Which signify my judgement.

I am the crow-man;

I am the justice at night.

Or simply call me, CROWNA.


	2. Chapter One - (C)owards at Night

Sometime in summer of 2014, around 10 pm, near _London Bridge_ station, England, a muscular man frantically moved through a crowd. If I was this man, I would probably act less obviously, perhaps even plan my moves beforehand. However, from a bird's eye view, the muscular man seemed desperate and simple-minded. The man, of course, searched for the weakest individual in the crowd. Within seconds, he found his prey. It was an elderly woman with her groceries. She wore a dim violet dress and a pearl necklace. The woman's appearance was alike the Queen's, fragile and delicate. Finally, when the muscular man was inches away from the woman, he stretched his hand in order to grab the woman's purse. When the man got a firm grip on the purse, he vigorously pulled the purse towards his body. The man's act caused the purse's strap to break in half. The man's action also caused the purse's owner to lose balance, and dislocate her right arm. Then, the man, with the purse in his left hand, escaped into obscurity of a near alley.

The woman screamed hopelessly, "My purse! You _THIEF_, give me back my purse! My purse!" Her voice was so delicate that by screaming it seemed the woman would lose her frail voice.

Meanwhile, the robber in an isolated alley began to frenziedly search the woman's bag. The thief felt safe. He thought that he was all alone in the alley. He thought that he had won a battle with justice. Nevertheless, I was there, too. And I judge him!

Thus, I jumped from a rooftop from where I previously observed the robber. I landed noiselessly. I stood calmly in the darkness. I was observing the robber, whose heart-rate was unusually furious.

Then, a rat squeaked. This noise made the robber more conscious of his surroundings. He saw a smooth sketch of me within the darkness. He was terrified. Immediately, the robber dropped the purse. Then, he took a gun out from his leather holster. Then, the thief began to point his gun towards the darkness, towards me. However, his vision was limited, and so I took advantage of it.

Without hesitation, my first strike surprised the robber and the blow landed perfectly. The first strike was a right uppercut, which was followed by a left punch towards the robber's ribcage. The third strike disarmed the robber. The gun was on the ground. Yet, the thief's lesson was far from finished.

I aimed at the thief's nose with my right knee. The right knee struck ideally and made the robber's nose began to bleed. While the robber was still dizzy, I grabbed him by his polo shirt. I had pressed him firmly against the wall of a building. Then, I began to utter in a low-pitched voice to the robber. "Garbage like YOU, I eat for breakfast. Do not bother my streets, AGAIN!"

The man took a deep breath and stated fearfully, "I am very sorry, CROWNA. I will neither bother you nor your streets. I am very sorry, CROWNA. Spare my life!"

I responded with a malevolent smile, "You better run quickly. Move out of my sight."

I released the robber from my grip. The robber furiously ran off like he was burning alive. I collected the purse and its valuables. Then, I returned the purse to its owner. The elderly woman smiled and thanked me. Yet, shortly I disappeared into the obscurity of the night.

Next morning, I woke up. I ate my usual breakfast in a local cafeteria. Then, I went to a lecture hall, where I began my lecture on _Political Philosophy_, precisely upon the subject of _Anarchism_. I finished my lecture, I received a few challenging and interesting questions from my students as regards my lecture. I responded to each of the questions as clearly as a man of my age and knowledge could. Then, I went down to my office. I had time to ponder. And so I thought about why in the last couple of months, why I as the CROWNA had only fought with desperate thieves, who needed money. '_Is money the only motivator to live life to its full potential_?' I thought to myself. Yet I knew that some of my thoughts were just too abstract to conform with reality, and so I ignored this thought. Now, I regret this ignorance!


	3. Chapter Two – (R)evolution is Coming

I woke up in the middle of a night. I was sweating. I was breathing heavily. Again, I dreamed my current nightmare! I usually denied this dream's possibility of being real, but now, I could not, not anymore. The dream had repeated itself too frequently, as if God wanted me to comprehend that this will be my apocalypse.

In this dream, I was in _London_ near the _House of Commons_. In front of me, there was a bridge, which was the nearest one to _Big Ben_. I faced a man, who was a few inches taller than me. This man was as fearless as I was, perhaps he was bolder than me. His face was a painting of war, but not against me; the war was against the government. Behind him, on the bridge, there was a crowd of wrathful people, the man's army, who campaigned for a stateless country and against a pseudo-democratic regime. Another significant feature of the leader of the crowd, the man which I faced, was his tattoo. The tattoo was clearly exposed on his hairless chest. It was a tattoo of anarchy; the letter _O_ circled the letter _A_. The tattoo was flame-red. The tattoo was alike to the man's eyes. His eyes were filled with a desire to abolish and replace the current political system for a new one.

I... I subjectively adored anarchism for its principles, but I also knew, from the bottom of my heart, that anarchism was, and is, a utopian political system, which was, and is, unworkable in this world. I also comprehended that not everyone would appreciate lawless countries, but they would prefer to live in fear and oppression of an affluent elite. Furthermore, I knew undoubtedly that I cannot change everyone's mind on this political matter. And even in my lectures, I knew that my persuasion had its limits. After all, we are individuals who make our own decisions. And whether or not individuals were influenced by me, it may not matter much ... this dream, strangely seemed, in my eyes, a possibility. ''WE WANT A REVOLUTION!'' The angry crowd shouted in my dream. I could see it coming, but I feared it. I feared this revolution as it would be one of those rebellions, were blood would be shared not simply amongst rioters and policemen but this blood of violence would also spill amongst neighbours, siblings, parents and children. For me, this revolution was akin to chaos and not anarchy. Anarchy is a political system, a thoughtful process. Whereas, chaos is a careless process, which is led by manic leaders and followed by mindless crowds.

Now, I had awoken with this realisation of a rising rebellion, and I could no longer sleep. Nevertheless, this realisation never seemed to distract me, while I was delivering my lectures, which pleased me greatly. Yet, my lack of focus and hiding from the truth of my destiny, made me weak and vulnerable. At that stage of my life, the hiding and the pretending that I had everything under control, led me to becoming a person, which I always tried to avoid being. I became a hypocrite!


End file.
